


Hands Like Yours Could Do No Harm

by tobiyos



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom, Top Nanjo Kojiro | Joe, and i also feel like i passed it, i feel like there's a limit on how much married couple bickering i can put in one fic, it's just Cherry and Joe being in love for a little while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 09:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30002622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: Kaoru frowns, and it twists his face beautifully, pushing his plush lips together, extenuating the little lines around his eyes that are usually imperceptible. He’s reddening like ripe fruit, the blush spreading down his neck as Kojiro kisses at his pliant hand, down to his fluttering pulse point. “You’re being awfully sentimental,” he grunts. “I don’t think it fits you.”“Does it have to?” Kojiro asks. He walks his fingers back up Kaoru’s arm to push gently at his shoulder, until Kaoru is spread out on his back once more, rolling over with a beautiful sigh. “Don’t you like knowing how beautiful you are?”“I do,” Kaoru huffs, his voice giving away the glare in wait behind the seemingly placid expression. “That doesn’t mean it suits you.”
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 5
Kudos: 189





	Hands Like Yours Could Do No Harm

**Author's Note:**

> *claps my hands together* Y'all watching sk8 right now? Y'all rockin with Joe and Cherry? Come with me, ignore canon. Let's just do some fun sex stuff

When Kojiro thinks of Kaoru, he tends to think of his hands.

Or, maybe that’s not correct. When Kojiro thinks of Kaoru, he thinks of lots of things. The bubblegum pink of his hair, the long lithe lines of his body, the snap of a sharp tongue, a barked order and a cool response. Kaoru is not a being of simplicity, and Kojiro has no desire to put him into easily labeled boxes, because it’s his shouting and his care that makes him _him_.

Kojiro may not think of Kaoru’s hands first, but he does think of them often, when they’re nothing short of—

“Beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Kaoru groans, shifting languidly from his position face down in Kojiro’s pillows, his hair a messy stain against white fabric. “You’re rambling, ape.”

Kojiro winches up on an elbow, the fabric draped across his chest sliding down an arm as he turns onto his side. “I’m writing you poetry, snob. Can’t you take a compliment like a normal person?”

Evidently not, based on the halfhearted glare Kaoru shoots him from underneath his hair. The gold of his eyes is unimpressed, even as his face remains a ruddy, exerted pink. He looks as though he wants to say something scathing, like a retort is sitting high his tongue and no doubt sharper than Kojiro can dream, something Kaoru will be infinitely upset with when his responses remain in the safe limits of inane disguised flirting.

It’s how they work. It’s _why_ they work.

But Kaoru does nothing more than glare, and Kojiro smiles as he reaches out and drags fingers down his cheek, tracing smooth skin, the sharp angles on his strong jaw. Kaoru makes an appreciative sound, his eyelids lowering as Kojiro strokes at his face, carving a path with his fingers down his neck, over the arch of his shoulder, and down, down, down, his arm.

Kaoru does not acknowledge the way Kojiro takes one of his hands, pulling it between their bodes as he presses against his palm, inspecting the delicate bends and the curves to his fingers, the well-trimmed nails, the mole on his ring finger. Kaoru is always stunning in his imperfections—in the marks dusted sparingly on the pale planes of his body, the scars he’s accumulated from years of skating. Kojiro has to remind himself sometimes that the man spread out in his bed is as human as he is perfection, even when Kaoru doesn’t do much to remind _himself_ of this fact either.

But his hands—the long fingers and the bony arch of his wrist—his hands may be the closest thing to miracle.

“Chef’s hands are rough,” Kojiro mumbles, pressing his lips to the mark on Kaoru’s hands. “Dented and calloused. Burned.”

“I’ve seen the marks,” Kaoru snorts, inelegantly, but he rolls on his side, and that’s enough to let Kojiro know he’s gotten his full attention. “You’re like chipped china, you know. Even when you’re built like a damn bull.” Kojiro smiles against Kaoru’s long fingers, and brushes his lips down to his nail, between his fingers and over his palm. Kaoru’s sigh is breathy, light and relaxed. “You’ve still got that burn from culinary school on your right arm, even though I keep sending you those articles on healing scars.”

Kojiro glances up. “I _like_ seeing the fruits of my efforts, thank you. One burn is a reminder on how to avoid others.” Kaoru shifts, slightly, against Kojiro’s sheets, and the blanket on his back dips down below his hip, exposing more pale skin. “I’m glad it stayed, even if it’s lasted longer than I thought it would.” When Kojiro’s lips brush Kaoru’s lifeline, his fingers twitch, grazing Kojiro’s nose. “Just like you.”

Kaoru frowns, and it twists his face beautifully, pushing his plush lips together, extenuating the little lines on his face that are usually imperceptive. He’s reddening like ripe fruit, the blush spreading down his neck as Kojiro kisses at his pliant hand, down to his fluttering pulse point. “You’re being awfully sentimental,” he grunts. “I don’t think it fits you.”

“Does it have to?” Kojiro asks. He walks his fingers back up Kaoru’s arm to push gently at his shoulder, until Kaoru is spread out on his back once more, rolling over with a beautiful sigh. Kojiro cups the side of his face with a smile, and leans close enough that the edges of fringe that normally fall into his own vision brush the sharp edges of Kaoru’s cheekbones. “Don’t you like knowing how beautiful you are?”

“I do,” Kaoru huffs, his voice giving away the glare in wait behind the placid expression. “That doesn’t mean it suits you.”

Kojiro laughs and slides his hand over Kaoru’s chest—feeling skin slightly tacky with sweat—to lift his yet untended to hand up to his mouth with a pleased little exhale.

“I think you’re an angel,” Kojiro breathes. He presses laced fingers up to his mouth.

Kojiro blushes, and glances off towards the other side of the room, his eyes falling behind wild strands of cherry blossom hair. “I hate it when you use your... _lines_ on me,” he huffs.

“I mean it, now.” He kisses Kaoru’s knuckle, once, twice, three times. He squeezes Kaoru’s hand, dips his head to the side. “I mean it all, with you.”

Kaoru groans like the praise is unbearable, his head rolling back to sit straight on his shoulders. “You’re ridiculous,” he grunts. Kojiro meets him with a smile when his eyes slide open. “Make yourself useful and kiss me.”

Kojiro is more than happy to lean down and press their mouths together, feeling a hand fall to his shoulder, the other squeeze gently at his fingers. Kaoru takes greedily, in hot, open mouthed kisses that send shivers skittering over Kojiro’s skin as he’s devoured, only to pull himself closer as Kaoru sighs quietly into his mouth.

“I want you,” Kojiro whispers, as he slides fingers from Kaoru’s palm down to hold his wrist.

Kaoru shifts his legs under Kojiro’s blankets, and the sound is impossibly loud, a soft drag of fabric across softer skin. He lets Kojiro hold him in place, but he has no problem leaning close enough to breathe across the edge of his jaw. “Take me, then.”

It’s why they work, Kojiro thinks, as he takes a breath and leans away.

The protest already forming on Kaoru’s lips looks indignant, already racketing up towards a snap that Kojiro would consider no less then _nagging_ , but it dies as Kojiro’s tongue meets his palm, sweeping towards the juncture of Kaoru’s thumb and his finger. Kaoru’s hand twitches, but doesn’t move, and Kojiro sucks his thumb into his mouth with a quiet sort of exhale, feeling the weight of Kaoru’s finger rest on his tongue.

“What are you—oh, _oh—Kojiro_.”

Kojiro’s name sounds like honey on Kaoru’s lips, even as he slides his mouth up his finger again, this time with a heavy-lidded glance in Kaoru’s direction. Its crude, and more messy than seductive, but Kaoru is flushed and panting anyway, his lips parted to draw shaky, hitched breaths.

Kaoru licks his thumb, and over his palm, up every individual finger until he can suck two into his mouth, and then Kaoru is moaning, quietly, as Kojiro slips his tongue through Kaoru’s fingers slowly. His skin is warm, and tastes like sweat, but Kojiro still feels his body run hot as Kaoru slides his fingers possessive across his tongue.

“My hands are rough,” Kojiro mumbles, his lips pressed against the sheen of spit on Kaoru’s fingers. “Yours, I think then, are absolutely perfect.”

Kojiro feels pressure against the back of his neck, and suddenly Kaoru’s face is within a sigh, their foreheads pressing together softly. “For someone who seems to like my hands, you sure do run your _mouth_ a lot,” Kaoru snaps.

Kojiro laughs, and drops a kiss to his cheek much too sweetly for either of them. “Don’t you like hearing me talk?”

“ _Not_ ,” Kaoru whispers, and the deep rasp to his voice has Kojiro’s lips stilling for a moment on his skin, “when that filthy mouth of yours could be busy somewhere else.”

Kojiro shivers, and sighs, and kisses Kaoru hard enough that he forgets for a moment how to breathe. One of Kaoru’s arms curl around his shoulders, and Kojiro has no problems leaning down, slotting their hips together and catching Kaoru’s delicious moan as bare skin grazes bare skin. Kojiro’s cock is filling out again, and Kaoru’s is already hard and waiting against his hip, despite its owner’s apparently empty protesting.

Kojiro gives another roll of his hips, and Kaoru’s cock brushes against his own, and he slides a hand down his shoulder, and across his arm, until he reaches Kaoru’s wrist. Instinct makes Kaoru flip his hand like he knows what’s coming, like it’s inevitable that Kojiro do nothing more than lock their fingers together as he grinds himself to completion, but Kojiro lifts his hand by the wrist instead, and slides their hands between their bodies, until Kaoru’s fumbling turns into a solid grip around their cocks.

“ _Oh_ ,” Kaoru gasps, throwing his head back. “That’s— _fuck_.”

“I thought you liked my mouth busy,” Kojiro whispers, and presses his nose to the edge of Kaoru’s jaw. “You sure are bad at keeping it _full_.” He keeps his hand wrapped around Kaoru’s and slides it up their cocks, feeling heat swirl in his stomach and ripple out in waves.

Kaoru’s hands feel too good to be true, especially when Kojiro guides him to _squeeze_ , and drag, his voice dropping as he groans into Kaoru’s neck, and feels the chest under him puff with fast, excited breaths. He can feel Kaoru’s fingers, long, slender, _perfect_ , under Kojiro’s rougher palm, slick as it rolls them together.

Kaoru bites off another curse, and just that is enough to have Kojiro’s cock twitching excitedly, his teeth digging sharp into Kaoru’s neck as he sucks a mark that he knows will live on Kaoru’s pale skin for days on end.

“ _Kaoru_ ,” Kojiro rasps.

“Fuck me,” Kaoru gasps, and Kojiro feels him squirm slightly, his knees drawing up on either side of Kojiro’s hips. Kaoru’s thighs are plush, and his skin tastes like sin when Kojiro drags his tongue up to his ear. “ _Kojiro_ , fuck me.”

 _Fuck_ , the way he says Kojiro’s name, like it’s something Kaoru only knows in desperation. It makes Kojiro hot, wanting, following the note of a whine in Kaoru’s voice that makes both of their voices come short, fumbling for control and slipping as Kojiro bites, as Kaoru strokes, and the sheets shush and fumble along with them. Kaoru is needy, his hips rolling against Kojiro’s as he catches his breath. His hand is digging into Kojiro’s shoulder.

And he’s never been able to tell Kaoru no.

“ _Fuck_ me,” Kaoru groans against his ear, and Kojiro gasps as he’s grabbed by the back of the neck and pulled into another searing kiss, every point of contact on his body becoming fuel for the heat under his skin as Kaoru sucks his tongue, and bites his lip, and digs nails into Kojiro’s shoulder with his free hand.

Kojiro fumbles for lube blindly, barely able to move as Kaoru thrusts up against him desperately and stills his attention with pretty little whines, the half-formed breaths that sound like Kojiro’s name against his lips, but he finds it eventually, sitting up against the pillows and half forgotten, despite barely having had a break since the night began.

Kaoru pants as Kojiro slicks himself up again, the pressure of his lubed hand on his cock making his whole body itch for something better, _tighter_ , as Kaoru tries to pull him closer with his legs.

“Will you be patient?” Kojiro huffs, sliding a hand between their bodies to line his cock up with Kaoru’s ass, pressing their faces cheek to cheek as he slides in slowly.

“ _No_ ,” Kaoru gasps, and pulls him closer by the neck. “I’m— _mmh!_ W-waiting, I’ve _been_ waiting, Kojiro—”

The first push of Kojiro’s cock in up to the hilt has Kaoru moaning, and trembling slightly as Kojiro pulls out, and then he’s having no problem wailing, digging his nails into Kojiro’s back in a hot burst of pain as he fucks him quickly, harshly. Kaoru’s slight, but muscular, and Kojiro places a hand on one of his hips and pushes him down into the bed to feel the way his frame jumps as Kojiro fucks him up the mattress.

Kaoru’s nails bite as he drags them up his skin, clawing for a foothold, and Kojiro sucks marks into his neck as he fucks him breathless, listening for each hitch, every whine, the way Kaoru gasps, _Good, Kojiro—good, good, fuck, harder, now—_

Kaoru’s hands are everywhere, over his shoulders, down his arms, on his hips, pressing flat against his stomach. Kojiro finds he’s not even surprised when he feels the fingers on his jaw, sliding between his lips. When he opens his eyes to glance down at Kaoru and finds him staring back, his pupils big and dark as he scissors his fingers across Kojiro’s tongue, all Kojiro can do is moan, and suck desperately at long, perfect digits.

“You’re _mine_ ,” Kaoru gasps, suddenly possessive. Kojiro has no objections, because he _is_ Kaoru’s—his hands, his mouth, his cock. He bends to Kaoru’s will and fucks into him _hard_ , drawing back just long enough to see Kaoru’s face go slack in ecstasy.

Kaoru’s fingers are hot on his tongue, and Kojiro is dizzy with affection, so he fucks him until he comes, feels hot pain soar up his back at the drag of Kaoru’s nails, and groans with Kaoru’s heartbeat on his tongue.

\--

“You bitch,” Kaoru hisses later, when he’s all but cleaned up, standing in Kojiro’s bathroom and staring at his reflection in the mirror. “I can’t cover these in a yukata.”

“I always pay for your concealer, don’t I?” Kojiro murmurs, pressing his mouth against a fresh bruise on Kaoru’s shoulder. He’s redonned his underwear post-shower, but Kaoru is still wonderfully, blessedly naked. Kojiro presses another kiss to his shoulder and huffs out a soft breath when he feels a hand in his hair that _yanks_ , firmly.

Kaoru’s gaze in the mirror is nothing short of furious, even though it makes his face light up with emotion. Kojiro grins around the strain in his neck. “And _I_ don’t like having to get up an extra hour early to cover myself in makeup because you can’t control your fucking teeth.”

Kojiro meets his glare in the mirror with his own and squeezes the hands he has around Kaoru’s waist. “Would you rather have to contend with the scratches on your back rubbing against chef’s whites?”

Kaoru stares, and blushes, seemingly beginning to track the red marks dripping past Kojiro’s shoulder with a modicum of shame, and his grip on Kojiro’s hair falls away so he can glance off into the corner of Kojiro’s bathroom again. “You’re infuriating,” he grumbles.

“And you,” Kojiro murmurs, leaning in to nose under his ear. “are beautiful.”

Kaoru hums, and leans back against Kojiro’s chest, his wonderful hands sliding up the back of Kojiro’s neck towards his hair again. “So, you keep reminding me,” he murmurs. Kojiro catches him for a kiss.

“So, I keep reminding you,” Kojiro hums.

Kaoru pouts, and turns his face as far into Kojiro’s neck as he can manage. “Tell me again,” he says, somehow managing to sound unbearable smug. Kojiro rolls his eyes, even if he secretly loves watching him preen. “Tell me again and fuck me against the mirror.”

“Anything,” Kojiro says, with a kiss to his temple. “Anything for you, at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thaaanks for reading! Definitely not gonna be my last matchablossom thing I write (I was editing another fic for them at the same time I was finishing this one) but these two... they scratch an itch. Make me happy :]
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos) and talking about sk8 on and off if you wanna come say hi! The flavor of this week is Terrified for Episode 10.


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